Childhood
by prepare4trouble
Summary: Snippets from Charles and Raven's lives growing up together.


Raven doesn't remember the last time she slept in a bed. Well, that's not actually true, she remembers her bedroom in her old house with her family vividly. She remembers being tucked in at night and snuggling down under the blankets with her teddy bear next to her. It just seems so long ago now that it might as well be somebody else's life.

Charles' bed is impossibly comfortable, the springs in his mattress don't even creak as she lays down, the sheets are wonderfully smooth and the two pillows are the softest she has ever encountered.

"Are you sure about this?" she asks.

Charles nods, "Of course. You are my guest, I could hardly make you sleep on the floor."

From the top of his wardrobe, he takes a spare blanket, places it on the floor. He takes one of the pillows from the bed and drops in on top of it, then he lays down lays down.

Raven pulls the sheets over her and allows her head to rest on the pillow. The bed is still warm from Charles' body heat. She feels her body relaxing, she feels safe for the first time in a long time.

"What about your mom?" she asks. She can feel her eyelids starting to droop, but she needs to be sure. "Isn't she going to be mad if she comes in here in the morning and finds me?"

Charles exhales through his nose. The sound is half laugh, half resigned sigh. "She hasn't been in here in years. She'll notice you eventually though, but don't worry, I think I can take care of that."

* * *

It isn't as easy as he thought it would be, changing somebody's memory in such an intimate way. He has done it before, of course, but nothing on this scale. He briefly considers changing the scenario. Raven doesn't have to be his sister, she could be a cousin, maybe orphaned and taken in by her aunt? Or the daughter of a good friend of his mother's that she is looking after for whatever reason.

He mulls the possibilities over in his mind. They are all complicated in their own way too, and none of them would guarantee Raven the home here forever that he has promised her in the way that his original plan would.

"I might have to do it in two or three different sessions," he muses, half to himself. "Maybe lay a bit of a foundation first, then layer in the details. Then I'll have to add extra things as they become relevant."

"Charles?" Raven asks. She is sitting on the swing in the garden, swaying back and forth. She wears only her own natural form, and the scales that make up her skin glint in the sunlight. He has placed a kind of psychic shield over them, hiding them both from the view both his mother and any servants that might happen to walk past. It was a new trick he had been working on.

"Yes?"

"Are you sure this is okay? Changing her memories like this? It seems..."

"There is no other way to guarantee you a home here. It won't hurt her, I promise. In fact, she will probably be glad of it. She doesn't have many happy memories. I think a daughter would provide a few, don't you?"

Raven hesitated, then nodded. "What about my accent?" she asked. "It's different to yours. Won't she think that's strange?"

"You're younger that me," Charles tells her. "If you were born here, or moved here as a baby, it would make sense that you have the local accent."

Raven smiles, "I'll have to create a new face, one that's believable as her daughter."

Charles grins, excited. "Come on, little sister," he says, extending a hand to her. "I'll show you some photographs of our father, that should help too."

Raven giggles as Charles pulls her off the swing and they run hand in hand into the house.

* * *

"Who's Kurt?" Raven asks unexpectedly one day.

Charles looks up sharply. For a moment, an emotion that looked a lot like panic seemed to flicker across his face. He smoothed his expression and affected confusion. "Who?"

"Your mother mentioned him to me this morning," she said. "Something about how he used to play with me when I was little. I figured he must be important if you put him in my history, so who is he?"

"He..." Charles glances away, turning his attention to the bookshelf as though fascinated by the titles there. "He was my stepfather," he says. "He wasn't a good person. Eventually, he... decided to leave."

Raven feels a chill, she pulls her cardigan closed and folds her arms to hold it in place.

"Charles."

He turns back to look at her.

"Do you ever use your power on me?"

Charles shakes his head. "No, and I never will, Raven. That's a promise."

She wonders whether it is one that he can keep.

* * *

"Ready?"

Raven nods. "Three, right?"

"Four."

She purses her lips. "Seriously?"

Charles nods. "We've got to push ourselves, what's the point otherwise?"

"All new ones? No copies of people I've seen around town?"

He nods again.

"Fine, but know I'm dreaming up something hard for you, too."

"I wouldn't expect anything else."

Raven takes a deep breath, exhales slowly and her skin begins to ripple. Charles watches in fascination and delight as her small blue form changes into that of a tall black woman with tight curls. He didn't think there would ever be a time when he didn't love watching this. "That's one," he said. "Again."

The her skin rippled again, transforming her into a skinny young girl with auburn hair in pigtails. Before he could say anything, she was an old man with wrinkled skin and a banging head, then a woman again, white, mid thirties, black hair.

"Amazing!" Charles said.

Raven smiled weakly as she reverted to her natural form and dropped to the ground, breathing heavily, looking visibly shaken at the effort of using her powers so many times so quickly. "You didn't think I could do it, did you?"

Charles nodded, indignant. "I knew you could, I'm just surprised by how detailed you can make each form, even when you're inventing them from scratch. Raven, you're an artist!"

Laying on her back in the long grass, Raven drew an arm over her brow. "I don't think artists sweat this much," she said. "Anyway, details are important, they're what make the lie believable."

"Hmm," Charles sits down on the grass next to her.

"Hmm what?"

"Nothing, it's just you're right."

Raven sits up, shuffles slightly to the left and rests her head on his leg like a pillow. "Well, I may not be a genius like certain people, but I've been know to be right occasionally."

* * *

"That's not what I meant." He swats her arm playfully. "It's just, the same is true for me. Maybe our powers aren't as different as I thought."

"Why did you take me in, Charles?" Raven asks one day. It is mid November and the late afternoon sky is already darkening into night. They are sitting cross legged on the floor of Raven's bedroom, a chess board between them. She used to be terrible at the game, but he is teaching her, and now she is almost a suitable opponent for him.

Raven wears the face that she has created for her persona as his sister. The blonde hair is tied back in a loose ponytail and the casual dress she wears is one purchased for her using Charles' mothers money rather than one she created.

Charles looks at her over the chess board, "what are you talking about? How could I not?"

"Easily," she tells him. You didn't know me. You could have called the police, you could have made me forget about you and your house, and sent me away. You could even have given me some food, then just told me not to come back. I probably wouldn't have after I'd been caught. Why did you decide to invite me to stay?"

Charles shrugs. "I suppose I was lonely," he tells her.

* * *

"Did you have a good day at school, sweetheart?" Sharon Xavier asks.

Raven turns in surprise. Her adopted mother is sitting in an armchair, a glass of wine in one hand and a magazine in her lap.

"Learn anything interesting?"

Raven shrugs. "It was okay," she says.

Sharon laughs. "You know, Charles is is father's son through and through," she says. "But you, Raven, you take after your mother."

Raven smiles weakly at her.

"Raven," Sharon says again, frowning. "Raven..."

"Yes?" she asks.

The older woman's frown deepens slightly. "I don't remember why I called you Raven," she says. "Such an odd name. Pretty, but odd."

Raven turns and walks away quickly, leaving her to the puzzle.

* * *

"I'm not sure this is a good idea," Charles says.

Raven hooks her arm into his and grins. "Relax, I trust you."

They are standing side by side in the entrance to the school cafeteria. There are maybe fifty kids in there, all busy eating, chatting and doing homework. Not a single one of them is paying them the slightest but of attention. Yet.

"Well I'm glad one of us does, but seriously, Raven, I've never tried anything on this scale before. What if I can't do it? What if I miss one, where would that leave us?"

"In big trouble," Raven tells him casually. "We'd probably have to go on the run, maybe change our identities." She pokes her elbow into his ribs. "It's a good thing you can do it, right?"

Charles sighs, "When you said you were going to think of something difficult, I had no idea you were this insane."

Raven grins. "Just wait til you see what I'm planning next." She lets go of his arm and steps forward into the room. "Attention, everybody," she shouts. Several of the kids turn and look at her, most don't bother.

"Raven," says Charles behind her.

She ignores him, steps further into the room and climbs onto a table. That gets the everyone's attention. "Alright," she says. She glances back at Charles, nods, and then without saying another word, shifts to her natural form.

The room explodes with screams and exclamations of confusion and fright. There is the sound of the mass scraping of chairs legs against the floor as dozens of kids attempt to exit the room at the same time. Then, suddenly, there is silence.

She turns back to look at Charles. His eyes are closed and his brow furrowed in concentration. Every other person in the room has simply stopped. They remain that way for several moments. Raven shifts back to the form her fellow students are used to, and climbs down from the table. Charles opens his eyes, and everyone wakes up.

The room is filled with confusion as the kids try to remember why they were heading for the door. Some of them sit back down, some leave, most simply stand there looking puzzled. Charles and Raven use the confusion to slip away unnoticed.

"You were right," Charles says. "I did it." He is smiling broadly, but the grin fades when he notices that she doesn't share his triumph. "Are you okay?"

She shrugs. "I guess so. They didn't have to scream quite so loudly though. What did they think I was going to do, eat them?"

Charles hooks an arm around her waist and gives her a squeeze. "They're not too bright. Most of them thought you were a martian," he tells her.

Raven looks at him, trying to decide whether he is being serious, then laughter explodes from her in the form of a giggle. It is infectious, Charles can't help but join in.

* * *

It should be raining. Charles glances up at the traitorous blue sky. The funeral is over, the guests long since gone. Now he stands, alone, staring at the patch of freshly dug soil before him.

She had been far from the perfect mother, so imperfect in fact that he often thought that when this day came it might make his life easier. He is wearing black, the sun soaks into the fabric and he begins to sweat. He discards the jacket onto the ground behind him. As he does, he senses somebody approaching. He turns to see Raven. She smiles as she steps toward him, but the expression is hollow and empty.

"Are you alright?" she asks as she reaches him.

Charles nods and shrugs at the same time. The truth is, he doesn't know the answer to her question. "Are you?" he asks.

Raven shakes her head wordlessly. Her eyes shine with unshed tears, they glow yellow as grief steals her control over her form. She blinks and a tear escapes. She wipes it away quickly. "Sorry," she tells him. "She wasn't even really my mother."

Charles turns to face her, embracing her tightly. "Yes she was," he whispers.

As they break off the hug, Raven works her hand inside his. "Come on," she says. "Lets go home."

Charles allows her to lead him away.

"England?"

Charles shakes his head. "Oxford," he says.

"Which is in England, right?"

"Well, yes."

Raven compulsively tucks her hair behind her ears and sits down at the table. "Why do you have to go so far?" she asks. "I mean, I know it's a good college, but there are good ones right here too, and they're desperate to have you. Why do you have to move to another continent?"

Charles sits down on the chair next to her. "They have the better program," he explains. "Not to mention some first class names in genetics. It's not just my first choice, it's my only choice."

Raven wets her lips, staring down at the table lost in thought. "You will come back, won't you?" I know it's too far for weekends, but will I at least see you for the holidays? The summer?"

When Charles doesn't answer, she looks up, worried. She finds him staring at her, a surprised expression on his face. "Do you mean you're not going to come with me?"

Raven frowns, then turns to face him and thumps him hard in the upper arm. "You ass! I thought you were going to leave me here on my own," she said.

Charles rubbed his arm. "Ouch," he said pointedly.

"I don't have a passport," she said suddenly, as the thought occurred to her. "I don't even officially exist, I won't be able to get one."

Charles got to his feet, walked to the shelf and retrieved a brown envelope. From it, he took two brand new passports. He placed them on the table and slid one of them toward her. "There are advantages to being able to control minds, if you haven't noticed until now," he said.

* * *

Raven isn't entirely sure what had made her come back here. She hadn't intended to. When she had woken up that morning in a rented room in New York City and realized how close she was to home, it had been a random observation, but now she finds herself sitting outside a cafe in Salem Center sipping a cup of coffee. Perhaps it had been Erik's sudden disappearance from her new life that made her pine for her old one, or perhaps it had been idle curiosity.

She wears the face of a young woman, mid 20s, clothes expensive, copied from a manikin in one of Manhattan's more exclusive department stores, her hair is short and fashionable, just a shade too dark for her skin tone. She looks like she belongs here. Once upon a time she had believed that to be true.

The house is just a short distance away from the town center. She could walk it. She had made the trip on foot several times in her youth. She could take a taxi, she could even steal a car. Weighing up her options, she twirls the last of her coffee around the bottom of the cup, swigs it, places a few dollars on the table and weighs them down with the cup. She gets to her feet and walks several steps down the road in the direction of the house.

A taxi passes and she holds out a hand to signal to the driver. He immediately pulls up to the side of the road. She opens the door and climbs inside.

"Where to?" asks the driver, a middle aged man with a friendly smile.

Raven glances down the road in the direction of the house where she grew up, thinking. This was a mistake, she wasn't ready. She didn't know how Charles would react. She didn't even know how she would react. It had been too long, and at the same time it hadn't been long enough.

"You okay?" asks the driver.

She blinks, "Yes," she tells him. "The train station please."

The driver nods and restarts the engine. Raven watches out of the window as they drive away. Another time, she thinks to herself. When she is ready, Charles will still be there.


End file.
